


Heartland II:  Apple Pie, Pumpkins, Popcorn, And The Bluebird Of Happiness

by BradyGirl_12



Series: Heartland [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Superman (Comics), Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Gift, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, Het, Het and Slash, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Smallville - Freeform, The Kent Farm, World's Finest, World's Finest Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After recently being outed by the press, Clark and Bruce visit Smallville with Dick.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apple Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ Dates Of Completion: December 14, 14, 15, 16, 2007  
> Original LJ Dates Of Posting: December 16, 18, 19, 21, 2007  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 1558 + 1154 + 2310 + 762 (Total: 5784)  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> All chapters can be found [here.](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/13235.html)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark, Bruce and Dick receive a warm welcome at the Kent farm. Apple pie is served fresh from Martha’s oven. ;)  
> 

Clark smiled at Bruce as the billionaire turned the Porsche into the Kent driveway, the farmhouse quickly coming into view.

Bruce smiled back but his stomach was fluttering. Sure, Martha and Jonathan knew about them being lovers, but this was their first visit since coming to drop that little revelation in their laps. He wondered if awkwardness would be the order of the day. There was also the little matter of having been outed a week ago by the press.

“Hey, Clark, can I help you with the milking?”

Clark laughed as an eager Dick leaned over the front seat.

“Sure. You did a great job last time.”

Bruce smiled again. With Dick along, maybe those awkward moments would not be so frequent after all.

Dick nearly bounced in the back seat. He loved coming to the Kent farm and Jonathan and Martha loved having him accompany Clark and Bruce. Their visits had always been fun, but Bruce was still worried. Those visits had been as friends, not as lover and adopted son, because even though they hadn’t made it legal yet, Dick was as much Clark’s child as his.

Bruce parked and cut the engine, Dick already out of the car before he and Clark could blink.

“That boy has superspeed, I swear,” Bruce grumbled.

Clark laughed and ran his finger down the nape of Bruce’s neck. “He’s just got a lot of energy.” Clark’s voice softened. “Don’t worry, Bruce. Mom and Dad are happy to have us here.”

Bruce looked at Clark and felt some reassurance. “Of course.” He patted Clark’s knee and exited the car.

“C’mon, Bruce! Clark! Hurry up!”

Dick’s impatience drew chuckles from his guardians, and he was already heading around the house with his suitcase. The front door was for company. The back door was for family.

Clark and Bruce followed at a more leisurely pace, and Martha was already at the back door greeting Dick joyfully. He hugged her and she smoothed his hair, then said, “Jonathan’s in the barn.”

“Yay!” Dick dashed off and Bruce shook his head. “Sorry, Mrs…Martha. Dick’s a bundle of energy.”

Martha’s smile seemed genuine to him. “Of course. For goodness sakes, you should have seen Clark around here when he was a boy! A blur of motion!”

“I’ll bet,” Bruce smirked as he picked up Dick’s suitcase in addition to his own.

In the sunny Kent kitchen, the heavenly smell of apple pie baking filled the room. Bruce’s mouth watered.

“You can just set Dick’s suitcase in the room next to Clark’s.” Martha opened the oven door. “Hmm, needs more time.” She closed the door and said, “If you boys would like some pie, it’ll be ready in about a half hour. The baking will be done in about five minutes but it needs to cool off a little first before you eat.”

“That sounds great, Mom.”

Clark started up the stairs and Bruce followed. He stopped at the threshold to Clark’s room.

“So, we get to share?”

“That’s right, Bruce.” Clark smiled. “Now that Mom and Dad know, no reason to sleep in separate bedrooms.”

Bruce went inside and deposited his suitcase on the bed. “Glad to see the bed’s big.” He leered.

Clark laughed. “Come on, let’s unpack and then get downstairs. I want to be right there when that pie is ready to eat!”

Bruce shook his head. His lover was a foodie, no doubt about it.

& & & & & &

The smell of the freshly-baked pie was heaven as Bruce and Clark entered the kitchen of the farmhouse. The kitchen door opened and a laughing Dick and Jonathan entered, cheeks flushed with autumn cold.

“Mmm, boy, does that pie smell good!” Dick nearly bounced with the joy of it as his eyes sparkled. Martha laughed. “Wash your hands, boys, and come sit yourselves at the table. Bruce, Clark, would you set the table, please?”

It was quick work to do so: plates, silverware, glasses, napkins. Clark sat in his usual place and indicated to Bruce that he should sit to his right. Bruce just hoped he wasn’t taking Jonathan’s place or anything awkward.

Clark’s parents had been accepting of their relationship, though Bruce still worried that they were just doing so for Clark’s sake and figured he would hurt their son down the line.

Which, when he thought about it, was probably the likely scenario. He was awful at relationships, the only successful ones he’d ever had with Alfred and Dick, and those were not in the romantic sense. The women he had courted and dallied with (Vicki, Silver, Selina) had all known that it was for fun and not commitment. Love had never entered the picture, though he had been fortunate that affection had been part of the package.

But, as Clark and Dick always teased him, sometimes he thought too much.

He gratefully accepted a slice of pie from Martha, drinking apple cider to go with it. Dick showered effusive but sincere praise on Martha’s baking skills, and the smiles on the Kents’ faces showed that they were smitten with their first grandchild.

Because, that’s what Dick was now: their grandchild.

Bruce just hoped that they were happy with their son-in-law.

“Bruce, dear, would you like more cider?” Martha asked.

Bruce blinked, aware that he had been caught deep in thought. He managed a smile and said, “Yes, thank you, Martha.”

Bruce began to relax in the cozy comfort of the Kent kitchen, admiring the color scheme of yellow-white-and-blue, the blue willow plates displayed on a shelf on the wall, and a houseplant green and bountiful in the corner by the window.

Martha smiled at him, and Bruce felt very happy.

& & & & & &

Dinner was meat loaf, carrots, potatoes, and broccoli, and more pie for dessert. The conversation was lively, super-exploits a topic since everyone at the table was ‘in the know’. All three kept the danger quotient down, not wanting to worry the Kents, but Jonathan and Martha were not fooled. They kept quiet, however, because their boys were not going to give up the caped life and they knew it.

After dinner and the clean-up, they retired to the living room, the TV kept on low in the background as they talked, waiting for Jeopardy! to start. The channel was running _Entertainment Tonight_ , and as the conversation paused, Mary Hart said, _“And the most recent shots of billionaire Bruce Wayne and his latest boy toy, **Daily Planet** reporter Clark Kent, were taken this morning in Gotham City as they exited the Wayne Enterprises Building…”_

Bruce wished there was a hole for him to jump into and disappear. He and Dick were accustomed to being targets of the paparazzi, but splashing his relationship with Clark all over the TV screen, and calling him a _boy toy…!_

Clark’s hand covered his and squeezed.

“Wow, Bruce, you were right! The vultures were out this morning!” Dick commented as the camera followed a scowling Bruce and a slightly-flustered Clark from the entrance to Bruce’s limousine. Shouts of _“Mr. Wayne! How long have you and Clark Kent been dating?”_ and _“Are you going to get married?”_ and other intrusive questions could be heard clear as a bell.

As the program moved on to the next story, Martha cleared her throat and said, “Hmm, well.” The ticking clock on the mantel sounded very loud in the silence. “Seems as if our boy will have to get used to the less-savory side of his profession.”

Clark grinned. “I think you’re right, Mom.” He put his arm around Dick, who was seated on the couch next to him and blazed his happiness with a smile. “But I think it’s worth it.”

Even Bruce had to smile, and Jonathan and Martha nodded as the familiar theme song of _Jeopardy!_ began to play.

& & & & & &

The house was quiet as Clark and Bruce walked upstairs to Clark’s room. Martha, Jonathan, and Dick were already in their respective bedrooms and fast asleep. The quiet unnerved Bruce a little. He was accustomed to quiet at the Manor, but there was always the sound of the ocean as background. Here it was almost complete silence except for the occasional cricket or owl.

He doubted that he and Clark could get too enthusiastic, either, because the whole house would be able to hear.

Clark began undressing, smiling shyly at Bruce. It never ceased to amaze Bruce that his lover could still be shy about anything!

“You brought your fancy silk pajamas?”

“Of course,” Bruce huffed. “I don’t intend to pad the halls in the nude, you know.”

Clark winked and laughed, disrobing down to his boxer shorts and pulling on sensible, cotton pajamas. Bruce slipped on dark-blue silk pajamas and they took turns in the bathroom, finally settling into bed as moonlight shone through the window.

Bruce suddenly felt very relaxed and a little tired. Maybe it was all the good food and lack of pressure about patrol? Dick was safe in the next room and Clark was right here with him. Whatever the case, he snuggled up to Clark, his lover’s delight evident in his smile as strong arms went around him and pulled him close.

As he fell asleep, he felt Clark’s lips brush his temple.


	2. Pumpkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy Great Pumpkin, Batman! ;)  
> 

“Do you get bats up here at all, Jonathan?”

Dick’s voice attracted Jonathan’s attention as the boy hung from the rafters, swinging back and forth on the rope he kept for baling hay. His experience raising a flying child made him blasé to this display despite the lack of superpowers. Dick flew around the rooftops of Gotham on a nightly basis. He doubted very much that he was in much danger in the Kent barn.

“Sometimes.”

“Cool!”

Jonathan smiled as he finished the last of his chores. Dick had happily helped with the milking and was burning off some energy. The child must have certainly been a tip-top acrobat in the circus.

Dick jumped down, lightly landing on his feet, his cheerful face bringing another smile to Jonathan’s. Dick reminded him a lot of Clark at that age. Even now his son was a sunny type.

A little thread of doubt slipped through his mind. Bruce was not the cheerful type at all. Could he make his boy happy?

So far, he had. But Bruce was ultra-sophisticated, one of the richest men in the world, and the grim Bat on top of it all.

Yet Clark loved him, and Dick was clearly devoted to him. So there had to be something special there, and Jonathan had to admit that he had seen the obvious love in Bruce’s eyes when watching Dick, and there was Clark…

Well, no use worrying about it on a fine autumn morning. Martha was cooking breakfast and Jonathan was hungry.

“Ready to eat, Dick?”

“You bet!”

Jonathan laughed and lightly mussed Dick’s hair as they headed for the house.

& & & & & &

Bruce groaned. The one thing that took getting used to on these visits to the Kents was the ungodly hour everyone got up in the morning. Long accustomed to sleeping late due to his nocturnal activities, it was a real chore to get up as early as he had to for breakfast.

He could have slept and Martha would have set aside a plate for him to be warmed up in the microwave when he was ready, but he felt it rude to sleep like an idle rich man while everyone was downstairs.

Clark was an early riser due to his farm years, and Dick? That boy should have been a late sleeper as well, since he had experienced late nights in the circus and now as Robin. Yet he was up earlier than Clark to join Jonathan in milking the cows and eager to get started before the sun.

_Brat._

Bruce stumbled to the bathroom, woke up a little in the shower, and made himself presentable. He walked down to the kitchen, still feeling bleary-eyed as Clark and Dick said, “Good morning!” in such cheery voices that he wanted to strangle them both.

Martha laughed. “Sit down, Bruce. A nice cup of hot, bracing coffee for you.”

Gratefully he took the steaming cup and drank. The warmth filled him, and he felt a little more human.

Dick’s bright-eyed chatter amused them all, and Martha asked, “Dick, will you help us decorate the house? Jonathan and Clark will get some pumpkins from the fields and you can help me arrange them on the porch and put strings of leaves around the railings.”

“Sure!” Dick ate a piece of blueberry pancake. “Can I paint a face on one of the pumpkins?”

“Sure can,” Jonathan promised.

Everyone helped clean up the breakfast dishes and then Bruce joined Clark, Dick, and Jonathan in the wagon, bouncing along a rutted road to the pumpkin patch.

“Maybe we’ll see the Great Pumpkin!” Dick winked while Bruce rolled his eyes and Clark laughed.

“That’s at night, Dick, on Halloween,” Bruce said with deadpan seriousness, delighting the boy.

Jonathan steered the two draft horses expertly, frost still on the grass as the wagon rumbled along. A mist obscured the mountains, Bruce glad that he was wearing a jacket in the chilly morning air. Everyone had on a jacket, even Clark, who found it better to stay in the habit even though he really didn’t need one.

The pumpkin patch stretched out endlessly, pumpkins of all shapes and sizes to choose from. There was all kinds of discussion among Clark, Jonathan and Dick as to which ones to take back, and Bruce wandered among the rows, suddenly stopping and bending down.

“This one,” he said triumphantly, picking up and presenting a perfectly-shaped medium-sized pumpkin.

“Wow, that’s a good one,” Dick said, and Clark agreed. He followed his father’s directions and went to an enormous pumpkin that three men would have to pick up, and lifted it effortlessly, placing it on the ground by the wagon.

Finally they had all the pumpkins required by Martha picked out, and Clark took the giant pumpkin and took off with it at superspeed, returning to join them just as they started back in the wagon.

Bruce wondered at the life he now lived: sitting in a wagon surrounded by pumpkins, his lover smiling happily as they bounced along the road.

If Gotham society could see him now!

He grinned, happy at the turn of events.

Back at the house they unloaded the pumpkins, Dick helping Martha put them on the porch. Jonathan had added cornstalks to the wagon on the way back and the two decorators would add those to the porch.

Bruce felt comfortable in his jeans as he helped Clark and Jonathan fix some fence posts, then Jonathan asked, “Clark, could you go into town? I want to check on the north pasture but I really need some supplies that Nate got in yesterday.”

“Sure, Dad. You want to go, Bruce?”

“Do you need help, Jonathan?”

The older man shook his head. “No, you go on with Clark.”

“We’ll take Dick and have lunch at the diner,” Clark said. “See you before supper.”

Jonathan nodded and drove off in the truck while Clark and Bruce walked back to the house.

Dick was helping Martha put the finishing touches on the decorations.

“Hey, Dick, we’re going into town to pick up supplies and have lunch. Want to come?” Clark asked.

“Yeah!” Dick finished tying the cornstalks to the pillar.

“We’re going to take a quick shower,” Clark said.

He and Bruce went upstairs, and they decided to save time by showering together. Though, on second thought…

Soaped bodies and deep kisses later, they were moaning under the hot water as Bruce whispered, “Do I have to wear jeans into town?”

Clark laughed as he nipped Bruce’s ear. “No, you can wear your big-city clothes.”

“Oh, good.”

Clark pushed Bruce gently back against the tiles, thrusting their groins together. Bruce loved the soapsuds festooning Clark’s perfect body, his look of utter wantonness something the world didn’t get to see on Superman.

As Bruce pulled Clark’s mouth to his, he was more than glad of that.


	3. The Bluebird Of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce go into Smallville for the first time as an openly gay couple. Dick is treated to ice cream. :)  
> 

Bruce parked the Porsche in front of the general store, people openly staring at the sleek car. They would have taken the truck but Jonathan had been using it. Clark seemed unaffected by the attention, however, getting out of the passenger side and walking into the store, Bruce and Dick following along behind him.

Clark had worn jeans and a light-blue shirt with a red jacket, his smile as bright as always as he greeted everyone in the store. Bruce had changed into a pair of black pants and blazer, his dark-blue shirt expensive but not showy. Dick wore jeans and a yellow sweatshirt.

Bruce immediately sensed discomfort on the part of some people, open curiosity in others, and caught a disapproving look by a middle-aged woman who quickly picked up her purchases and walked out.

“Mr. Merckel. Glad to see you,” Clark said with a smile as he held his hand out.

The elderly man blinked, then took Clark’s hand and shook it. “Hello, Clark.” He didn’t look in Bruce’s direction.

An elderly woman clomped forward with her cane. “Bruce Wayne! Nice to see you again, young man!”

“Hello, Mrs. Abernathy.” Bruce shook her hand, careful of her fragile bones.

“Clark, so nice to see you visiting Jonathan and Martha!”

“It’s always nice to come home, Mrs. Abernathy.”

“And you are Dick Grayson, aren’t you, young man?”

Pleased that the woman remembered him, Dick nodded and shook her hand.

“Mr. Merckel, Dad said that you had some supplies in that he had ordered. He gave me this list…”

While Clark conducted business, Dick wandered around looking at old-fashioned penny candy and all kinds of merchandise. The town had a department store but this general store held items that the ‘fancy’ store didn’t usually carry. A young woman was looking over kitchenware and smiled at Bruce in a friendly manner, relaxing him.

Some awkwardness was to be expected. After all, a lot of the coverage of his and Clark’s relationship was on the tabloid side.

And he had always been known as the ‘city feller’ around here. Outsiders were always suspect to some degree, even people who had lived in the town and surrounding countryside for decades. If you weren’t born and raised here, you were from ‘away’, and Bruce was as ‘away’ as you could get.

He still wished that they hadn’t been outed. It was a harsh way for people to learn the truth.

“I’ll get that list of items put together for you, Clark.”

“Great. I’ll be back for them in a few hours. We’re going to eat over at the Bluebird.”

“Good, good. It’ll all be waiting for you when you get back.” The storekeeper looked at Bruce and smiled, more relaxed now.

Clark thanked him and he and Bruce and Dick left the store.

“Ready for some lunch?” Clark asked.

“Yeah!” Dick said and Bruce had to smile.

“So, the _Bluebird Diner_ , eh?”

“You like that name?”

Bruce couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I’ve been there before. Pure Americana, my friend.”

“Ah, but it’s the true Americana. Not what city folk think is the real thing.”

Bruce smirked as they walked down the street, Clark happily greeting old friends and acquaintances, Bruce keeping a smile on his face but also a wary eye. Most people were being polite, some with genuine delight at seeing Clark, but Bruce noticed that one man crossed the street a block away. Had he done so deliberately to avoid them?

_Clark and Dick would say you’re being paranoid, Bruce._

_The Bluebird Diner_ was starting to get busy with the lunch crowd. A classic old diner, the legend, **‘Worcester, Mass., 1906’** was stamped into the metal structure, the New England city the headquarters of the Worcester Lunch Car Company, which had built many of the country’s diners back in the day. A handpainted sign in blue-and-white announced the name of the restaurant.

Inside, people were busy chattering in the booths and at the counter, Clark leading them to a corner booth. A local radio station was playing over the loudspeaker, and the shiny chrome was classic diner décor. The requisite pie under a clear plastic cover was set on the counter between the napkin dispensers, and working men in jeans and coveralls mixed with workers from offices and the department store. A group of old ladies giggled as they went by their booth, cheerily greeting Clark, and most of the people in the place seemed unconcerned with their presence except for a smile or wave thrown their way.

They had no sooner settled into the corner booth when the cook gestured to Clark. Around fifty, he was burly and wearing an apron, the classic look of a diner cook.

“Excuse me, I have to go talk to Sam.”

Clark slipped out of the booth, then Dick hopped up. “Bathroom,” he said, and bounced away.

Bruce watched both of his boys go: his irrepressible, energetic child and his sunshine lover. A smile played around his lips.

He idly read through the selections on the tabletop jukebox, waiting for a menu to be placed on the chrome-edged table, when he heard, “It’s a disgrace, really.”

He froze, then continued his casual perusal. The booths on either side of him were empty, but the next booth over held three people: two men and a woman, all middle-aged, the men dressed as farmers and the woman in a dress that suggested a clerk or office worker.

The hubbub of the diner covered their voices to other diners, but Bruce had very good hearing, and he half-suspected that they didn’t care if he heard them.

“Rich guy corrupted a good, decent boy,” said the woman.

One of the men scratched stubble and drawled, “Kid was always a little on the weird side.”

“Maybe so, but he dated that pretty Lana Lang when he was here, and he’s partnered with that Lois Lane, isn’t he? Why would he go all queer and start dating a man?”

Beard Stubble shrugged. “Ya never can tell with a guy sometimes. He was always a timid sort.”

The other man, stockier than his companion and with white hair, scowled. “Can you imagine? They put them on that celebrity show last night! And they’re all over the damned papers.”

“It’s not natural.” The woman sipped her coffee. “Can’t trust a city guy, ‘specially a rich one.”

“Must be breakin’ Jonathan and Martha’s hearts.”

“What breaks my heart is that kid. Can you imagine him growin’ up in that perverted household? I guess money talks even when a kid’s in danger. They’d take him away if the rich guy wasn’t so rich.”

Clark returned and slid into the booth opposite Bruce. “Sam wanted to ask me about one of the restaurants in Metropolis. Bruce, you all right?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Bruce smiled and Dick slid in next to him.

“Hey, boys!” A ginger-haired woman hurried over, slapping down three menus. “Sorry it took me so long to come over. Crazy!”

Clark grinned. “We understand, Irma. Specials good today?”

“Aren’t they always, Clark?” She nudged his shoulder and winked.

He laughed and said, “You’re right.”

Dick was already studying the menu, his legs swinging back and forth under the table.

“Anything to drink, gents?”

“Coke, please!” Dick said.

“Me, too,” Clark added.

“Make it three,” Bruce said.

“Good, three Cokes it is.”

Bruce leaned forward. “I suppose it would have been sacrilegious to ask for Diet Coke?”

Clark’s eyes sparkled. “You could, Bruce. Contrary to your opinion, Smallville is in the 21st century, you know.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Bruce’s tone was teasing, but he glanced at the trio in the nearby booth.

“We’ll finish this meal up at the ice cream parlor,” said Clark.

Dick loved the suggestion and this time Bruce joined in the laughter. He decided to hell with the Gang of Three with their narrow-minded opinions. Most of the people of Smallville seemed just fine with things.

& & & & & &

The ice cream parlor was from the turn-of-the-century: the last century. The gorgeously-painted ads for Coke and lemon drops and Duesenbergs were framed in dark wood, matching the impressive soda fountain with its marble countertop and rows upon rows of ingredients for every kind of ice cream soda and sundae imaginable.

Dick excitedly ordered a strawberry sundae, which consisted of French vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, nuts, strawberry sauce, and a cherry on top. Clark smilingly ordered the same, while Bruce chose French vanilla ice cream smothered in dark chocolate sauce, nuts, whipped cream, and the requisite cherry. They took seats at the round white table with old-fashioned chairs, and a pair of teenage girls giggled at a corner table, stealing glances at the hottest celebrity couple and the ‘cute kid’ with them.

“Looks like we’re the flavor of the month,” Bruce remarked dryly.

“Really?” Clark was amused, winking at Dick. “So what flavor are we?”

“Strawberry!” Dick declared firmly, and Clark laughed.

Bruce wondered if he should mention anything to Clark about what he had overheard later when Dick wasn’t around. He didn’t like to see the boy upset, and Dick would be angry if he knew people were pitying his situation.

Had Clark heard anything or noticed any coolness or outright hostility? Super-hearing didn’t guarantee that he would hear the nasty remarks, because he had to selectively tune things out or he would go mad.

Clark had grown up here and had happy memories of this town. He probably wouldn’t believe that some of the people of Smallville could be so acid-tongued and prejudiced. He believed that there was good in everyone.

Bruce believed that you still had to be careful.

The owner of the ice cream parlor, Ellen Gower, chatted with Clark as she delivered the sundaes.

“Did Martha get your place decorated yet?”

“Yes, she did. Dick helped her.”

Dick beamed at Ellen’s look of approval. “Good. She’s got talent, your mom. She makes quilts like no one I’ve ever seen, and around here that’s saying something. She knits a lot of goods for the orphanage over in Point Blessed and for our clothing drives.”

“Mom has always been generous.”

The pride in Clark’s voice was obvious, a pang going through Bruce. He took a deep breath. He had Clark and Dick and Alfred, and he was very lucky, indeed.

When they finished with their sundaes, Clark left a generous tip and they headed for the Porsche.

Bruce felt his stomach knot with irritated anticipation as he saw the group of teenagers and twentysomethings hanging around the car. They did not look as if they were just admiring it.

They looked like they wanted trouble.

His hand curled up into a fist, adrenaline kicking in. If needed, he was ready…

“Hey, Clarkie! Long time no see! How’s the big-city reporter doin’?” A freckle-faced middle-aged man in overalls emerged from the back of the pack and smiled. Unpleasantly.

“Hello, Gabe.” Clark looked very relaxed, and Bruce and Dick took their cue from him.

“I see you’re back with your fancypants…boyfriend.” The sneer was unmistakeable.

“Yes, I am.” Clark’s smile was very satisfied.

“Fancy car, too.” Gabe kicked the door on the driver’s said, Bruce barely restraining a growl. “You too good for us now, Clarkie?”

“He’s definitely too good for you, Gabriel,” Bruce snapped.

Gabe’s face turned ugly. “Look, you cocksuckin’ fag…”

“’Evenin’, boys.” The calm tones of Police Chief Douglas Parker interrupted the insult. “Clark, good to see you.”

“Hello, Chief.” Clark shook hands with the lean officer. “You remember Bruce Wayne, don’t you? And his ward, Dick Grayson.”

“Sure do.” Doug looked with interest at the gang. A few had already edged away. “Gabe Pruitt, your mama know you usin’ language like that? Boy, you’d be lucky if she don’t get the soap out.”

A few snickers made Gabe turn bright-red. “Lissen, Chief, since when do we cater to sissified city folk…”

“Since when has Smallville treated one of their own and guests so shabbily? Go on about your business, Gabe, and that goes for the rest of you, too.”

Gabe looked as if he wanted to object, then shrugged his shoulders and sauntered off, his posse following.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Clark.”

“No need to apologize, Chief. Most of the people today have been just fine.”

“Glad to hear it. I know you might be a tad embarrassed by all that tabloid stuff…”

Bruce put an arm on Dick’s shoulder and said, “We’re used to it, Chief.”

The policeman looked at Bruce and nodded. “I expect you are, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce, please.”

Doug nodded again, clapping Clark on the shoulder. “Say hi to your parents for me, will you?”

“Will do, Chief.”

The trio got into the car, and all were quiet as Bruce started the engine and drove out of town.

As they traveled the familiar road back to the farm, Clark said, “I’m sorry about that. I hope it didn’t ruin your day.”

Dick leaned over the front seat. “Not really. I mean, it bums that ol’ Gaby had to mouth off and all, but just about everyone was cool, Clark. I mean, there were some people kind of uncomfortable, but that could be they were just not sure what to say to you, y’know? And others seemed really happy for you, like that nice Mrs. Abernathy. So I guess the scales tip to the good side.”

Clark and Bruce exchanged proud glances at their boy’s insight.

Clark smiled and ruffled Dick’s hair. “Just the way I saw it, Dick.”

Bruce nearly snorted. His two optimists! He wondered if he would get overwhelmed by sunlight.

Not that sunlight was such a bad thing, really.

He smiled to himself as his family laughed and joked and began singing a silly song.


	4. Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce go for a walk. They prepare popcorn afterward. ;)  
> 

That evening Jonathan and Martha sat on the porch swing while Dick painted one of the large pumpkins. Clark and Bruce finished up the dishes and Clark went to the front door and poked his head out.

“Bruce and I are going for a walk.”

“Take a sweater, dear,” Martha said automatically, Clark grinning and saying, “Yes, Mom” as he closed the door.

“She still advises you to stay warm?” asked Bruce in amusement.

“It must be a mother’s thing, even with me, who isn’t affected by temperature,” Clark joked, shrugging into an old red sweater over his shirt.

Bruce put on his jacket and they exited through the kitchen door, wandering over the fields and onto the road.

They were quiet, looking up at the stars, a slight breeze blowing as a crow cawed high up in the trees. Clark watched a pinpoint of light move across the sky. “747 to Metropolis,” he murmured. Bruce looked up and tracked the skein of light across the twilight sky. He slipped his hand into Clark’s, who squeezed it.

They continued walking, a squirrel racing across the road, Clark cocking his head to listen. “Nothing,” he said with a little smile, and Bruce was pleased. He didn’t want Clark flying off. It was a selfish thought, but he didn’t care.

The wind blew stronger, ruffling their hair. Clark eyes were very blue behind his glasses.

“Does this afternoon bother you?”

“Does it bother you?”

Clark sighed. “I suppose we have to expect such reactions. It could happen in Metropolis or Gotham as well as here.”

“No doubt.” Bruce looked at his lover. “I’m sorry about the tabloids making your life hell this week.”

“Well, as you told Chief Parker, you and Dick are used to it. I’ll just have to get used to it, too.” His mouth quirked. “As Mom said, the more unsavory side of my profession is chasing us.”

Bruce chuckled, reaching up and brushing the Superman curl from Clark’s eyes. Ordinarily that curl didn’t show itself while Clark was being Clark, but among friends…

Clark grasped his hand and kissed the fingers, Bruce’s breath hitching. He gently pushed Clark back against the trunk of an old elm tree and pressed his groin to his lover’s. Clark responded instantly and slid his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, kissing him deeply. Bruce moaned softly, rubbing up against Clark.

He spied a nearby haystack and pulled Clark toward it with a smirk, body throbbing. Clark smiled and they fell to the ground, tumbling into the hay as they resumed kissing, rolling on the soft hay.

Bruce fumbled at the snap to Clark’s jeans, opening them and pushing down the fabric and his underwear, Clark’s cock warm on his hand as the wind blew, Bruce shivering with cold and desire.

Suddenly, Clark’s breath warmed him from head-to-toe, Bruce smiling as he stroked Clark, who spread his legs a little wider and moaned softly, “Bruuuce!”

Bruce’s own erection was straining his pants, and Clark managed to free it just as his climax approached, seed spilling into Bruce’s hand as he came almost as soon as Clark touched him.

They lay panting for several minutes, Bruce staring up at the stars. Another pinpoint of light streaked silently across the sky.

Clark sat up, straw all over his hair and clothes. “Looks like that nice jacket of yours will need some cleaning.”

Bruce smiled lazily. “That’s okay.” He reached out and touched Clark’s hand. Clark took out a handkerchief and slowly cleaned Bruce’s hand, and then his own. He kissed Bruce’s fingers again, blue eyes twinkling.

“What will your parents say when we get back?”

“That we should make some popcorn so we can all watch a little TV, then go to bed.”

Bruce laughed. “The simple pleasures are the best!”

They cleaned each other off, but when they returned to the house, Martha and Jonathan exchanged knowing looks and Dick giggled.

When Clark and Bruce set the popcorn in the microwave and Bruce poured drinks of lemonade and soda, he glanced at his reflection in the window and noticed stray bits of straw in his hair.

“Clark!”

Clark grinned. “Sorry, Bruce. Must have missed those.”

Bruce shook his head as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Wise-ass,” he grumbled.

The popcorn was ready and Clark picked up bowls for each person and balanced the drinks on a tray.

“My ass _is_ pretty smart, thanks.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, following his lover out of the kitchen and into the living room, mumbling about a pretty ass.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [World’s Finest Gift Exchange](http://community.livejournal.com/worlds_finest/324642.html). When I saw Prompt F41 (Clark and Bruce’s first visit to Smallville as an open couple (your choice whether Clark’s parents know about the relationship already). Bonus points for including a range of reactions from the inhabitants of Smallville, not just happy ones. Rating: Any. I knew that it would fit in perfectly with this series. This is a prequel to [, and you need not have read the first story to enjoy this one, as this story was written especially for the ](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/67273.html%E2%80%9D>Heartland%20I:%20)WFGE.As this prequel takes place several years before the events of [Heartland I](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/67273.html), Dick is around 11 years old in this story.  
> I hope this is what the requester was looking for. I enjoyed writing it! :)


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